魔揀行者 The Fiend Picks Pilgrim
那怪急回頭，抹了他一眼，道：「師父啊，我被那猛虎諕怕了，見這晦氣色臉的師父，愈加驚怕，不敢要他馱。」三藏叫道：「悟空，你馱罷。」行者連聲答應道：「我馱，我馱。」那妖就認定了行者，順順的要他馱，再不言語。沙僧笑道：「這個沒眼色的老道。我馱著不好，顛倒要他馱。他若看不見師父時，三尖石上，把觔都摜斷了你的哩。」那怪急回头，抹了他一眼，道：「师父啊，我被那猛虎諕怕了，见这晦气色脸的师父，愈加惊怕，不敢要他驮。」三藏叫道：「悟空，你驮罢。」行者连声答应道：「我驮，我驮。」那妖就认定了行者，顺顺的要他驮，再不言语。沙僧笑道：「这个没眼色的老道。我驮著不好，颠倒要他驮。他若看不见师父时，三尖石上，把觔都掼断了你的哩。」
逐句解 Line by line
The fiend turned his head sharply, threw Sha Monk a glance, and said: “Master, I've been frightened out of my wits by that fierce tiger — and the sight of this ill-omened, dark-faced monk alarms me all the more. I dare not have him carry me.”
抹了他一眼 (mǒ le tā yì yǎn), “shot him a sidelong glance.” 諕怕 (xià pà), “scared, frightened” — 諕 the loan-graph for 嚇. 晦氣色臉 (huì qì sè liǎn), “a face of unlucky hue,” Sha Monk's dark, forbidding looks.
Tripitaka called: “Wukong, you carry him.”
The master, obliging the fiend's fear, assigns Pilgrim instead — playing straight into the demon's true aim, which was to be borne by none other than the Great Sage.
Pilgrim answered at once, again and again: “I'll carry him, I'll carry him.”
連聲答應 (lián shēng dā yìng), “assented with repeated cries” — 應 read yìng, “to answer, to respond.” Pilgrim's eager agreement is knowing, not naive; he has already seen through the disguise.
The monster thereupon settled on Pilgrim, meekly consenting to be carried by him, and said no more.
認定 (rèn dìng), “to fix upon, to settle on.” 順順的 (shùn shùn de), “compliantly, all meekness” — the demon's sudden docility, having got the carrier he wanted.
Sha Monk laughed: “This purblind old Daoist! Better I should carry him — instead he wants that one. Let him once lose sight of the Master, and on some three-pointed rock he'll have every sinew in your body smashed to bits.”
沒眼色 (méi yǎn sè), “no eye for things, purblind.” 顛倒 (diān dǎo), “on the contrary, perversely” — 倒 read dǎo. 摜斷 (guàn duàn), “to dash and snap”; 觔 (= 筋) is “sinew.” Sha Monk's grim joke foresees exactly what Pilgrim intends.
The demon's choice of carrier is the scene's pivot. Feigning fresh terror at Sha Monk's dark, forbidding face, he maneuvers the compassionate master into assigning Pilgrim instead — precisely the outcome he schemed for, since it is the Great Sage he means to burden and, later, to crush. His sudden meekness once he has his way (“all compliance, and said no more”) betrays the calculation beneath the helplessness.
Pilgrim's ready “I'll carry him, I'll carry him” and Sha Monk's laughing aside show that the disciples are anything but deceived. Sha Monk's grim prophecy — that the “purblind old Daoist,” out of the Master's sight, will find his sinews smashed on the rocks — turns the demon's own scheme on its head, and cues the contest of tricks the next passages unfold. The comedy is double-edged: each side thinks it has outwitted the other.